


Sutures

by Reiya_Wakayama



Series: Pain Relief 'verse [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Episode: s01e09 Wolf's Bane, Familiars, Gen, Magic, healer!stiles, magica!Stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-01
Updated: 2014-02-01
Packaged: 2018-01-10 18:44:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1163190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reiya_Wakayama/pseuds/Reiya_Wakayama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles somehow ends up with a familiar and Derek comes to the rescue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sutures

**Author's Note:**

> I took episode 9, the hospital scene and used it in this part.

Stiles hums as he loads some of the supplies that Deaton had gotten a hold of for him through his mysterious contact that he refuses to tell Stiles. Shutting the back, he walks back into the clinic to get the last little bit. He finds Deaton standing behind his counter next to his last bag with a small cat in his hands.

Stiles stops short as blood red eyes stare back at him with a scornful look. Stepping forward Stiles stares at Deaton and the cat. Before he can ask the obvious question, the cat wiggles out of Deaton’s grip and jumps down to saunter over to Stiles. Sitting on its hunches, it glares up at him and chips loudly as if demanding to be picked up by him.

Stiles complies and is surprised by the loud purr that emits from the cat’s small body. “What?” Stiles can only ask. He tries to put it down but needle sharp claws dig into his shirt and it hisses at him.

“She came in earlier this week. Her owner died of a heart attack, a witch. She’s a familiar and I’ve been reluctant to let a normal family adopt her in case of residual magic,” Deaton says with a small shrug. “I was hoping you might be willing to take her.”

“I…um…,” Stiles looks down to see red eyes staring back. She’s a short hair with grey fur that has a tortious shell pattern in it. Her front right paw looks like it was dipped in white paint. Stiles can figure out where the red eyes came from. He doubts it’s because she is albino. “I’m not sure,” Stiles says softly.

A cat, a living creature being dependent on him is a responsibility he’s not sure he can handle right now, especially a magical one. And he’s constantly getting supernatural creatures in his little shop, he’d be afraid one of them might try and eat her accidentally.

“Try for a week and if it doesn’t work out, I’ll take her back and find her another place to stay,” Deaton offers. A week, Stiles thinks he can handle that.

“All right,” Stiles finally sighs out. “Do you have a carrier for her?” Deaton lifts up the carrier that is sitting by his feet. A paper bag follows with supplies to last for the week. He was certainly prepared for Stiles acceptance. “Oh, before I forget, does she have a name?”

“Morrígan, I believe,” Deaton says with a faint smile.

“Seriously, a warrior goddess?” Stiles asks with a raised eyebrow.

Deaton just nods and Stiles sighs before loading the cat into the crate. Grabbing the bag of cat stuff, the last of his supplies and the handle of the cat crate, Stiles nods to Deaton and leaves the shop, loading everything into his jeep before driving away.

Once home, he drags everything into the back of his shop and starts to put it away. Once that is done, Stiles hauls the cat carrier up the stairs and lets the cat loose to explore his little home. Filling the food and water dish, Stiles sets them down in the kitchen where she can find them.

Deciding that she’ll be fine up here, Stiles shuts his door and heads back down the stairs to get some work done. He’s not sure how much time passes before he feels something rub up against his leg. Jumping slightly, Stiles glances down to see red eyes staring up at him.

“I thought I shut the door,” Stiles says down to Morrígan. She just gives him a look like she thinks he’s slow. “You’re not the first person to give me that look. You might like Lydia. She also looks at me like that sometimes.”

Morrígan just blinks before jumping up onto the table. Lying down, she starts to clean herself, though she keeps well away from his work space. “I guess you’re use to this kind of stuff,” Stiles mutters and goes back to mixing his herbs.

By the time it is nearing midnight, Stiles decides to close up figuring that nothing seems to be happening tonight. If anyone comes, his ward will wake him. Cleaning up and storing everything back properly, Stiles close up and locks everything down. He turns the lights off and walks through the dark to the stairs. A pair of pale red eyes glow from about half way up the stairs.

They turn away and Stiles follows Morrígan up the stairs. Grabbing a quick dinner of a simple sandwich and a bottle of water, Stiles watches some mindless TV then gets ready for bed. He’s already settled under the covers when he feels the bed move and feels a small body curl up against his side. Absentmindedly petting her, Stiles goes to sleep.

Stiles used to have really strange dreams as a child, never really nightmares, but still not normal. It wasn’t until later that he realized that it was his magic messing with his subconscious mind, showing him things. As he grew older the lessened with the help of his mom and he started to remember bits of them. Sometimes, they were even prophetic, giving little glimpses to come.

He hardly gets them now, but when he does, they grip him wholly, not letting him awaken until they’ve played through. Now is not any different. He struggles to wake up as shadows swirl around him. He can’t really make out anything except the occasion flash of crimson eyes or the sharp light bouncing off of bared fangs. Howls resound in his head, deafening him and he can’t get a grip on anything.

Suddenly, he feels a weight on his chest and a loud noise starts up, slowly drowning out the howl of the wind and wolves. Something pricks his chest and he slowly surfaces to the darkness of his bedroom. Red eyes stare down at him where Morrígan is laying on his chest, purring loudly and kneading his sleep shirt, her claws pricking him ever so slightly.

“That was you,” Stiles croaks out, his throat bone dry. Morrígan just purrs louder, kneading harder, her eyes half lidded as she stares down at him. “Thank you,” Stiles murmurs, scratching her head absent mindedly. It’s not until the light of the next morning is shining through the windows that he realizes that it wasn’t just one pair of red eyes he saw in the dream. There were two.

~*~

He gets the call in from Nurse Howard asking for Mrs. Newman’s refill of her ointment. Stiles as a small group of clients from the long term care ward down at the hospital. Many of them have conditions that are long healing. He could easily cure them in a few sittings but that would be suspicious and he doesn’t want to have to answer. Instead, he offers his cures in diluted form. They help people heal a little faster with his magic and they don’t have to worry about horrible side effects that most normal medicine comes with.

In Mrs. Newman’s case, she an old woman who has third degree burns on her body that are slow to heal and which have caused a lot of nerve damage. His ointment is a skin regenerator with a little added boost to help her nerves heal a little bit. Nerves are tricky though and he doesn’t think she’ll get full feeling back, even with his magic. Still, he can help so he does, offering his wares at discounted rates.

He quickly throws it together, adding a small rune of healing on the bottom of the small bottle. Setting it aside to finish setting, Stiles goes back to work, watching the shop and dealing with his small clientele. He may not have a big group, but those he does have are regulars.

He’s helping an elderly couple out with their order when the bell chimes and he glances up to see a mop of brown curls over a shelf, long brown hair following. Stiles knows that mop of brown hair. Deaton’s assistant has come to his shop a time or two. Stiles doesn’t know the brunette girl with him though.

He’s handing a small discreet paper bag to the elderly couple with a smile when he hears Scott speak up. “Man, it was huge, like terrifying. It bit me on my side. I thought it was going to kill me,” Scott tells the girl.

“I still think you should see a doctor, maybe have it checked out. It could have had rabies for all we know,” the girl says.

“I’ll be fine Allison. My mom’s a nurse and she checked it out. It wasn’t as bad as I first thought and she patched me up,” Scott assures.

Stiles frowns at Scott’s words, a huge thing that bit him and left. Reaching out with his magic subtly, he feels the aura around Scott. It’s still mostly human, but he can see it changing slowly, shifting into a more supernatural shade. Stiles curses mentally.

Scott and Allison seem to be his only customers at the moment and they’re engrossed in his display of gemstones and the small chart of their mystical properties. Slipping into the back, he quickly dials Deaton’s personal cell. “Stiles, what can I do for you? I hope Morrígan isn’t causing any problems,” he says.

“Oh, no, no she’s fine,” Stiles says and forces his mind back on track as it tries to slip back to the events of the night before. “We’ve got a bit of a problem. It involves your assistant,” Stiles says. “I overheard him talking in my shop about a huge thing that bit him and then ran off and that the bit wasn’t too bad. I checked his aura out and he’s already starting to turn. Not tonight, but most definitely tomorrow, he won’t be completely human anymore.”

“He mentioned it today, but I had hoped it wasn’t so. Thank you for informing me. I will talk to him tomorrow,” Deaton says.

“It was that rogue Alpha, wasn’t it?” Stiles asks softly.

“I believe so. I haven’t seen Derek recently but if I do, I’ll inform him of the more recent developments. If you see him before me, tell him. Scott will need Derek’s help to keep from being drawn to this Alpha,” Deaton says.

Stiles agree and hangs up before heading back out front. Scott and Allison are waiting for him at the front counter, a few stone pendants resting on the counter. Stiles rings them up, greeting Scott and waving them out.

The next few hours are dead after that so he decides to close up early for once. He’s still got to deliver Mrs. Newman’s ointment to the hospital. Morrígan follows him around the shop as he locks everything up. He also activates the wards on his shop and bringing the warding properties of the thin strips of mountain ash wood nailed along the walls of his shop. They’re mostly hidden and when the doors are closed, they make a sealed space that no shifter can get in. He also took a leaf from Deaton’s book and the counter has a new coat of mountain ash varnish specially mixed up.

Finished locking up, Stiles heads up the stairs to grab a quick bite to eat before heading back down. Morrígan follows him everywhere and he’s forced to tell her to stay as he slips out the side door, bottle of ointment, keys and his wallet in hand.

The sun is starting to set and heavy rain clouds are starting to roll in, making it seem darker than it is. Stiles sighs as the first few drops hit his windshield. Of course he forgot his umbrella back at the shop. At least he remembered his hoodie against the faint chill in the air.

The parking lot by the long term care ward is empty when he pulls up, but it is after visiting hours and most people park closer to the front, so he’s not too concerned. Stepping out, he hunches against the strengthening rain and runs towards the sliding doors, sighing as they slid open and he’s able to escape the rain, for now anyways.

Shaking himself a little, Stiles glances around, surprised by how quiet it is at the moment. Even on the slowest of days, the place is still filled with the sound of the nurses and doctors, all the machines running and beeping.

He frowns and starts for the front desk which is unusually empty. His shoes squeak against the tile and Stiles heads further in, the hairs standing on the back of his neck as he moves further in to see nothing but empty rooms.

A flash of dark color moves out of the corner of his eye and Stiles turns to see someone standing there watching him. He gazes at Stiles, pale blue eyes staring out of a face that is half scar tissue from what looks to have been some serious burns.

Stiles swallows and takes a step back, sensing the huge dark aura that hangs over this man, this creature. “You must be Stiles,” the man says evenly, smirking a little.

“Stiles, get out of the way,” Derek says behind him, eyes burning red. His pack is with him this time, the two blonds and the dark skinned guy, all three with glowing golden eyes.

Stiles makes a split second decision, sensing that even the four werewolves can’t take on this beast. Spinning back around, he draws up his spark and just shoves it at the rogue Alpha with all he has. He roars as he is thrown back, going through a wall of glass behind him and lands hard, skidding.

“Run,” Stiles yells, staggering at the sudden rush of energy out of him. Derek growls at the rogue, but follows Stiles out of the hospital. Derek tosses a set of keys to the darker wolf, “Boyd, take the Camaro and follow us.”

He nods and they run for the dark car parked nearby. Derek follows Stiles to his jeep, getting into the passenger side. Stiles is running on autopilot, as he peels out of the parking lot, heart beating in his throat. He’s not sure how much time has passed before he hears Derek calling his name and telling him to pull over.

Stiles does, only just noticing that his hands are shaking like mad on the steering wheel. “I’ll drive, you’re swerving,” Derek says, getting out and walking to the other side of the jeep. Stiles just nods and scoots over to let Derek take the wheel.

Stiles hunches over, seatbelt digging into his shoulder as he breathes harshly, fighting off a wave of nausea , spots appearing and disappearing in his vision. “What’s wrong?” Derek asks gruffly next to him.

“I…I’ve never used that much magic before,” Stiles mumbles, trying to remain conscious. The jeep comes to a quick stop and Derek gets out. He helps Stiles out of the jeep, his legs jelly and unable to support him.

He has Stiles keys in his hand but when he tries to unlock the door, the ward repels him. “Stiles, Stiles, you need to unlock your door,” Derek says. Stiles rouses enough to shakily grab the keys and unlock the door, opening it enough to break the seal.

The five of them tumble into his back room. Stiles is forced to shut the door, the wolves unable to touch it. He’s barely conscious as they help him up the stairs. “What’s wrong with him?” the blond woman asks.

“I think he over did his magic,” one of them says softly. Stiles can feel himself being carried and then softness hits his back. “Did you see the way he just tossed Peter aside like he was nothing?”

They all growl as Morrígan jumps on the bed and hisses at them, red eyes glaring up at them. “Morrígan,” Stiles mumbles softly, reaching blindly to tap the cat on her head and missing completely as his arm refuses to cooperate with his brain.

Morrígan starts to purr loudly, lying on his chest like a furry heating pad, small claws pricking his chest as she kneads his chest just like the night before. “Let him sleep,” Derek murmurs from above.

“What about Peter?” the woman asks.

“There’s nothing we can do at the moment. He made the right call. We couldn’t have beaten him there. We need to wait for now. Isaac, call Deaton and have him come over. We can’t leave until someone brings the mountain ash barrier down,” Derek says. Their voices fade out, Morrígan’s purr drowning them out. Stiles sinks under the pull of sleep, reaching for something that’s just out of reach.

**End.**


End file.
